


Breezy, Bright

by Barkour



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 05:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7702681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In honor of Meihem Week: seven vignettes exploring Junkrat and Mei's relationship as it might be, could be, would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breezy, Bright

To the conference room at large Junkrat drawled, "So, we're delivering a bomb to scrap some bots, and I'm getting paid for it."

The gorilla sighed and said, "That's the gist of it," before returning to his comically undersized tablet. The short, round scientist from China, though, she scowled at Junkrat as they shuffled out of the room. It made her plump mouth plumper. Her name was Mei-ling Zhou and she had dark hair, dark eyes, brightly colored glasses, and a little fat nose that made his teeth ache.

"Oooh, you're giving me the chills." He mimed shuddering, rubbing at his upper arms as he quaked. "What's nipped 'tween your toes?"

She huffed at him. "Scrap some bots! That's what you said."

"'Course I did," he said, sloughing along the corridor, "that's what we're doing."

Mei-ling hurried to walk alongside him. She'd worn drop earrings, each a spray of semi-translucent purple stones. They clicked together as she kept pace with Junkrat. Soft, violet shadows dappled her near cheek. 

"And you'd like to scrap Bastion, wouldn't you?" 

"What, that war machine?" He spat at the wall. Mei-ling said something in outraged-sounding Mandarin. "I'd be doing your lot a favor. Giving it the flick. You saying we let those Talon bootlickers hold on to their omnics?"

She pushed her blue glasses back up the bridge of her nose with two fingers. She'd painted the nails green, a cheery shade of green, like trees in summer in places where trees still grew.

"Bastion is not a war machine," said Mei-ling. She made another one of those huffing sounds. 

"Roger," he said. "And those automaton scrap heaps, they never killed anyone."

"And have you?"

He stopped, pivoted on his peg, and jabbed a metal finger at her. "Only when they deserve it!"

Did he detect a certain wariness about her? No: Mei-ling Zhou was unafraid, stretched up on her toes and still too short to reach his chin 'less he hunched again.

"Or if someone paid you enough money?"

Junkrat lapsed into a sullen hunch. Their faces drew even. Her breath caught, then expelled warm against his cheek. He eyed her. Her lower lip pouched out as she raised her chin.

"Thought this Overwatch was all about fresh starts."

Triumph rounded her cheeks. "So then how are you any different from Bastion?"

"I got a brain!" He thunked a metal fist to his head, two hard strikes. "Right up here. What's that thing got, programming?"

"The human brain is only an organic computer," she argued. "You're programmed, just as Bastion is. Just as I am."

He pointed a thumb to himself, a thrust pulled short of his throat. Her eyes flickered. Mei-ling adjusted her glasses again.

"Right, 'cept I've got morals. Nothing to stop that pile of junk from blowing us all ass kettle."

Her hand dropped. There was a sort of pinkness to her cheeks. Her dark eyes shone. The light caught in those earrings; it made her skin shine, too. She swallowed and raised her chin higher still.

"You're nothing but a no-good bully."

"I beg your pardon," said Junkrat, half-straightening. His shadow loomed. "I consider myself a freedom fighter. A, ah, misunderstood one."

"Well, I consider you a cruel little boy," she said, and reaching for her glasses again, her hand before her face, she struck off.

"Oi!" he shouted after her. His skin was hot, stretched too tight across his bones. "Begging your pardon, _ma'am!_ Didn't know you was a schoolteacher!"

Mei-ling said something in Mandarin he couldn't catch, and then at the bend in the corridor she turned, red-faced, and said, "And put on a shirt! Before you catch cold!"

"As if I'd like to catch you!" he yelled.

Mei-ling Zhou said, "I would like to see you try! Jamison Fawkes!" and then she said something horrified-sounding to herself and vanished around the corner. 

Junkrat, skin too thin, his head pounding, thoughts of popsicles and bots and Mei-ling's trembling earrings spinning 'round his skull, gave a tremendous shiver. He felt hot all over, furious and also strangely eager, given to twin, fraternal impulses to blow something up, anything at all, and to chase after Mei-ling and convince her he wasn't so bad, that he was: what? Some spit-polished do-gooder? He shivered again. Blow something up it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialogue is taken from the game. Specifically:
> 
> • So, we're delivering a bomb to scrap some bots, and I'm getting paid for it.  
> • You're nothing but a no-good bully.  
> • I beg your pardon. I consider myself a freedom fighter. A, ah, misunderstood one.


End file.
